


Sleeping Kitty

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Multi, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3249881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tauriel likes to stare at Kíli when he sleeps. Apparently, she’s not the only one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Kitty

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Each of these elves finds Kili adorable (and maybe beautiful). Never more so than when he's asleep. So, each waits until he's asleep and then goes to just watch him sleep. Usually it's at different times, but one night, it happens to be at the same time and that just happens to be the time Kili wakes up. To find three elves just staring at him” request on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=25294197#t25294197).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s her turn on watch, so it surprises her, of course, when her guard informs her that the prince has already taken up the duty. 

Tauriel can guess why. At first, she’s irritated, as unbecoming as it is. She can just picture Legolas, normally so calm and cool, brooding over the prettiest dwarf locked in their cells, the one that’s, somehow, managed to catch her eye. Legolas acts as though she’s the only one intrigued, but his harping on the same dwarf is just as telling, however much he might deny. He acts as though he’s protecting her honour, nothing more, but she still expects to find him reaming out the poor little man locked behind the Elf King’s bars. 

Yet the dungeon is quiet, save for the distance flow of running water. Tauriel creeps quietly through all the same, hoping to catch Legolas in the act. A part of her wants the confrontation, just to bring out the talk of where they stand, though the rest of her is nervous. And, of course, it would’ve been better if he’d never come here at all, so she could do her job and watch Kíli on her own. 

The other twelve, of course, need to be guarded as well. But there’s little they can do trapped inside their cells, and Tauriel knows that she lingers the most outside of Kíli’s hold, particularly in the dead of night, when the pale moonlight can creep through his bars and wash his sleeping face in a peaceful radiance, highlighting all his beauty. He’s tall for a dwarf, trim, nowhere near the usual Elven standards, but Tauriel feels her attraction nonetheless. Even the scruff of his dark stubble intrigues her, and something about the wildness of his hair seems to call her in. He isn’t delicate, she knows, but he seems that way compared to the other dwarves, broad and strong but still slight enough to handle her. There’s an elegance to him that the others don’t possess, but also a feral roughness that peaks her curiosity—that tantalizing mix of man and _beast_. 

Another reason she moves so stealthily is so as not to wake the sleeping dwarves; it will be easier to stare if Kíli’s given in to dreams, and Tauriel already knows she’ll do a good bit of staring. 

She’s surprised when she rounds the rockface to find Legolas at the same wall, away from the ledge and right at the hem of Kíli’s cage. He’s peering down to where Kíli lies, cutely curled on the floor with his sweet face nestled on his strong arms. Legolas’ face is a mixture of unsettlement and curiosity. Though he’s frowning, Tauriel thinks he must like what he sees. 

And it gives him pause. Tauriel understands how strange it is to be so drawn to a dwarf. They’ve been told all their lives how ugly the little creatures are, and yet here one lies so peacefully, so very handsome in his slumber. By the time Tauriel slips out from behind the rocks, it’s too late for Legolas to deny his purpose. He looks surprised to see her but hides it quickly, whispering in greeting, “Tauriel.”

“My prince,” she answers, just as hushed. “It’s my turn to watch the prisoners.”

Legolas nods stiffly. He tries to say, “I was only...” but then he trails off and shakes his head, probably knowing how futile it would be to offer an excuse. She dons a little smile to show that she understands. 

Instead of drifting away, Legolas looks back through the bars and sighs. He almost looks defeated, though not particularly disappointed. 

Tauriel chances asking, “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

Legolas tilts his head, his silver-blond hair slinking over his shoulders. Kíli’s is long as well, but not as straight and not as smooth. It has a sort of tousled look that makes Tauriel want to fist her fingers in it, and Legolas looks like he wouldn’t mind finger-combing it from the other side. While they stare at him, Kíli fidgets once, emitting a tiny mewling sound and kicking one leg. Tauriel smiles, reminded off a small forest creature. 

Rather than answer, Legolas muses, “I wonder what dwarves dream of.”

“Perhaps no different than elves.”

Legolas snorts in amusement, though he stays quiet. “They dream of racing through trees?” It doesn’t seem likely. But it’s more fun to wonder in silence, while searching Kíli’s handsome face for clues.

“What are you both doing here?”

Tauriel spins at once, almost squeaking in surprise, and she can feel Legolas tensing at her side. They both stare at the man who’s come up behind him: the king himself. Tauriel has to bury the quick shame that rises in her—she’s the captain of the guards of Mirkwood: it should be impossible to creep up on her. But he’s the king, and he can move with no sound at all when he bids, older and wiser than she could possibly imagine. Tauriel instantly dips her head to breath, “My lord.”

Now behind her, Legolas says, “Father.”

Thranduil eyes them both. His posture is regal, his arms behind his back, his earthen crown so grandly woven through his hair. It’s strange to see him down here, in the dungeons, and Tauriel wonders if he’s come to question the leader of the dwarves again, then admonishers herself; it isn’t her place to question her king. She still moves tighter to Kíli’s cage, leaving room beside her to continue up the path. 

Thranduil makes no move to do so. He simple states, “This is a very specific spot to be at such a late hour.” Tauriel shifts guiltily. It’s her duty, yes, but she should be at the gate of the dungeons, not halfway down the middle, tucked into one little corner. Yet none of the other dwarves are so enthralling to look at, and at least she hasn’t been caught alone.

Legolas asks for her, “Is there anything we can do for you?”

Thranduil lifts a dark eyebrow, but ultimately decides, “No.” And then, to Tauriel’s great surprise, his eyes slide to the occupant of the cell, and Tauriel is sure that she sees the same hunger in them that rests in her and Legolas. He, too, hasn’t missed this beauty. 

And she can’t help wonder if this is the first time for either of them. Perhaps they have also snuck out to watch Kíli, just at different times than her, and the three of them have simply had the misfortune now of colliding all at once. And now they must all admit their deviance, soothed only by the knowledge that they aren’t alone. Under the burning gaze of all three elves, Kíli snuggles into the crook of his own elbow, a warm smile twisting his plush lips. His thick lashes dance against his cheeks, perhaps racing through the hollows of a mountain. 

So quiet that Tauriel almost doesn’t hear it, Thranduil drawls, “A pity that he’s a dwarf and keeps such poor company.” It’s as good as an admission of interest, and Tauriel doesn’t answer. She doesn’t care what company Kíli keeps; he’s beautiful, and she can’t tear her eyes away. 

For a little while, they return to silence, watching the unsuspecting dwarf squirm in his sleep, until Tauriel begins to question the stone floor—perhaps, if Thranduil truly has this interest, she could convince him to move Kíli to a nicer holding cell, perhaps even a place with a proper bed. He would look so sweet, nestled under silken sheets, burrowed in a pillow, perhaps with all that heavy armour and cloaking removed in favour of comfort, of a tantalizing chance at the sight of his bare skin. The images play in Tauriel’s mind, wrong but nonetheless desirable. 

Finally, Thranduil muses, “Would that we could simply let the others go and keep this one for our own.” _For our own._ The implications aren’t clear, but Tauriel almost shivers with her own imaginings. 

Legolas speaks just what she’s thinking, under all her fantasies. “That would be cruel.” But she can hear the longing in his voice and knows that he might like it, too. Then it’s all she can do not to picture Kíli done up like the king’s courtesan, resting against an array of pillows instead of this jagged hole. Perhaps there is some way, once his own quest is done, to convince him to return to the realm of elves, and they could welcome a willing Kíli into their lives...

Halfway across the cavern, a harsh voice suddenly shouts, “Hey, what are you all staring at Kíli for? How come no one was watching me sleep?” Tauriel, shocked, whirls on her heels, to see the dwarf with the strange hat leaning against his bars, gloved hands wrapped around the bars. In the cell next to him, one of the bigger dwarves stirs, blearily sitting up to rub at his eyes. The dwarf with the gravity-defying hat looks genuinely perplexed, and Tauriel’s too polite to issue him the true answer. 

A yawn escapes the cell they’re standing before, and Tauriel looks back to see Kíli’s mouth open wide, eyes fluttering before he opens them, squinting up through the dark. He rubs his eyes and looks at the three elves, confused. His head starts to swivel between them, his lips mumbling, “What the...?” But none of the elves explain themselves. 

Tauriel’s cheeks feel very hot. Out the corner of her eye, Legolas also looks uncharacteristically embarrassed, his face lightly flushed. To her other side, Thranduil is making a hasty retreat, walking just a bit too fast with his head just a bit too high to look as regal as usual. Finally, Tauriel mumbles a little, “Sorry,” And shuffles quickly off after the king. Legolas moves in the other direction. 

Tauriel ends up standing stiffly at the end of the dungeons, trying to maintain guard duty and vigorously ignoring the curious conversations going on between the dwarves explaining what happened to one another and trying to figure out why Kíli gets all the attention. 

Tomorrow night, perhaps, they’ll have to be more careful.


End file.
